Poetry

Immigrant


Transplanted immigrants


We grow roots in foreign soil.


Struggling like weeds amongst home grown desired


Shrubs, bushes, flowering plants,


We scatter seeds that blend with these


As we appease the greater garden,


We, tenuously, escape pesticides


And weed wackers: we blend,


Cope and adapt;


Growing luscious, emerald, flourishing, flowering;


We become grafted into alien foliage,


We give back or we take back


Moisture from damp soils;


Become prominent in ways sometimes seen


As invasive and intrusive; bearing strange fruit.


We become overgrown at times;


Tangled masses; branches, roots intertwined; seeds
scattering


On winds, on time, on nature.


We struggle for deeper roots.